Coming right on the heels of me just wondering why people write in the present tense. One shots I'm okay with, it gets a little confusing on multi-chapter fics, though. Anyway...
I wanted to try something without any dialogue. And I like SuperWho. If you don't then, well, I guess just skip this one. But SuperWhoLock…totally head-canon like nobody's business. (grins)
A Touch of Envy
Dean knows he's probably being silly about the whole thing but, really, it's hard not to blame him.
He's sulking in the control of the Tardis, leaning against one of the railings, arms crossed sullenly over his chest. Sam is off exploring (again) which leaves Dean and Castiel alone in the room. With the Doctor.
Dean was never very taken with the man—Time Lord—and was extremely distrustful when they first met. After everything he had been through, he could hardly be blamed for that. But, as time went by, he'd come to trust the Doctor and view him as a friend. So when the Doctor calls on them for help, well, Dean's rather willing to go for it. After all, the Time Lord had helped them out plenty of times, even if he wouldn't take them back in time to save John and Mary.
But that's not why Dean's sulking. No, Dean's sulking because the Doctor and Castiel have hit it off like old high school buddies and are getting along in a simply fantastic manner. Dean's watching them from across the control room now, talking and gesturing, the Doctor animatedly explaining some sort of quantum physics time travelly thing while Castiel nods along in agreement, occasionally throwing in his own two cents.
And Dean is totally not jealous of how much attention the two are paying to each other. He's not jealous that Cas is having an intelligent conversation with another man (alien), he's not jealous about the way Cas's eyes lit up when he first saw the inside of the Tardis, he's not jealous of the way the Doctor got all excited when he realized that Cas could actually hear the Tardis (because apparently it's alive, what the hell), and he's definitely, definitely not jealous of how content Castiel looks when he's having long conversations with the Time Lord.
No. He's definitely not jealous.
Except then the inside of the Tardis is suddenly flooded with every color in the universe and that, that is the last straw.
Castiel's wings are Dean's, they belong to Dean, Dean's the only one who can see them so they're his just as he belongs to Castiel. But by the way the Doctor's glittering brown eyes are following the curve of one of those glorious manifestations of light and color, it's quite obvious that he can see them to.
Okay, now Dean's jealous. Really, really jealous.
The Doctor's babbling, going on and on about light waves and refracting and bending and space and stars but Dean's focus is on Castiel's face. It's blank but by now, Dean knows all the subtle movements and twitches that make Cas easy to read. There's nothing pressing at the moment, some amusement that's probably from the Doctor's babbling and a slight relaxation that comes from allowing his wings to spread. And, granted, the inside of the Tardis is massive and Cas has got more than enough room to spread his wings out as wide as they can go. Dean knows they get bigger when Cas is in a temper and the lights change into thunder clouds and lightning and fire and it's quite possibly the most badass thing Dean's ever seen. He smirks to himself as he thinks abut it but the smirk quickly falls away when he sees the Doctor whipping out a familiar device.
That stupid sonic screwdriver.
His Royal Pain-In-The-Assness doesn't believe in using guns and Dean's caught him frowning at the Winchesters on more than one occasion. But that screwdriver makes the most obnoxious noise and Dean thinks it's a prissy, pretentious thing that looks like a screwed up sex toy and is completely useless. It can't even do wood. How pointless is that?
Castiel, on the other hand, gladly stretches a wing out and the Doctor flicks his device up and down it before peering at the sonic screwdriver as though it's telling him something. That man and his toys; Dean thinks he's almost like a child. He'd said so once to Sam, dropping mocking comments about how the Doctor talks to his Tardis and croons over her and dotes on her, until Sam happily pointed out that Dean was the same way with his "darling" Impala. Needless to say, Sam got a split lip and a solid warning about comparisons from that one and Dean stubbornly refused to say anything on the matter when asked about it later.
He's still watching them from across the room, not even bothering to hide the disapproving frown on his face now. In his mind, he's comparing Castiel flashing his wings about to a married woman walking down the street without any clothes on. They're private, they're intimate, they're his. He saw them first, he touched them first, he claimed them as his own and Castiel let him. He can deal with it now because the Doctor's just looking but as soon as that Time Lord starts making a move to—.
Oh.
No.
He did not just run his fingers over Castiel's feathers.
That's it. That's the straw that broke the camel's back. Dean's had it.
He's across the room and shoving the Doctor away to stand in front of Castiel before he knew he could even move that fast. The Doctor looks rather taken aback and Dean can feel Cas' disapproving stare boring into him but he doesn't care.
Nobody touches Castiel's wings. Nobody except Dean. He's already been over this with Sam, maybe he needs to start setting up some ground rules when it comes to Cas and his wings. Hell, he'd already told Cas how he felt about other people and wing touching. But apparently the Doctor's a different case. Well, not anymore.
And of course Castiel tries to start lecturing him and says his name in that ever-so-slightly-threatening, condescending, barely disappointed and kind of sort of exasperated tone of his and Dean bristles and tells him to shut up. And the Doctor's just looking completely baffled as if he doesn't understand what he's done. So Dean explains it to him. Kindly. In a Dean Winchester sort of way.
You do not ask to see Castiel's wings, an angel's wings are not for anyone's eyes but other angels. And Dean. It doesn't matter that the Doctor is a Time Lord who has saved the universe and been across time and space because those wings don't belong to him and they never will. And then the Doctor's smiling and that just makes Dean all the more flustered because what the hell does he have to smile about, he's in a fuck load of trouble. So he keeps talking only now he's yelling because those wings, those glorious wings, are the most precious of things, they are Castiel's biggest, most glorious secret and Dean adores them as much as he adores his younger brother.
And he doesn't say it out loud but Cas is the only one he's confessed his every feeling and secret to and the Doctor, no, he can't be anywhere near that. Not this crazy, wild, mad man with a flying box, not near Dean's solid, stoic pillar of light, no, just no. No to the looking and definitely no to the touching. Cas keeps trying to get a word in but Dean's ignoring him in favor of letting it all out on the Doctor. And he's not holding back. He lets the Time Lord know exactly what he thinks about other people—especially ancient aliens—touching Cas' wings.
He's only stopped by a simple question.
The rest of his rant dies somewhere between his lungs and his lips and he just stands there with his face flushed and his mouth hanging open like an idiot. The Doctor's just smiling at him in an easy way as if this was a question he usually asked everyone and Dean's so put off by the abruptness of it that he can't seem to answer.
Cas saves him the trouble and answers with the truth in a usual Castiel fashion. Yes, they are in love, yes, they are soulmates, and yes, they do share a deep and profound bond. Castiel is the only one who could make a relationship sounded like it came from a text book and still be horribly cheesy about it at the same time.
The Doctor's smile widens and he skips around the control panel of the Tardis, throwing levers and hitting buttons, and shouting something that sounds vaguely like French at the top of his lungs. Dean will never understand him and he's not sure if he wants to. There's something else behind that happiness, he decides, a deep, longing ache hiding in the darkness at the back of the Time Lord's eyes and he thinks he knows what it is but has learned by now that asking a question of the man will never lead to a straight answer. Besides, rule one, the Doctor lies.
So instead of trying to figure out the deep mysteries of the universe's biggest lunatic, he turns to Castiel, ready to give him a nice, long, Dean Winchester style lecture about wings. But Cas is giving him that look, the one that says "if you don't let this I'll smite you on the spot or, at the very least, withhold wing touching for a very long time" so Dean lets it go. Let the ancient, mystical beings fiddle and prod at each other all they want, he decides, still with a fiery hint of jealousy at the thought of someone else's hands in Castiel's feathers.
Just as long as there's no kissing.
